


One day in the life

by gorseflower



Category: The Americans (TV 2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:06:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9011608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorseflower/pseuds/gorseflower
Summary: Nadya's mother is sick, her classmates lack revolutionary commitment and the Communist future is still far from being built. But she struggles on.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theoldgods (missandei)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=theoldgods+%28missandei%29).



Maria Pavlovna Vetrova, Senior Pioneer Leader and junior Mathematics teacher at School Nr. 14, Smolensk Urban District, pulled her hat further over her ears in the chilly April wind and reached into her pocket for another of the cigarettes she saved for Thursday afternoons. There were none left. She sighed, then called out:

"That's enough for today, children! Save some work for next week!"

The Young Pioneers industriously weeding the school garden showed no objection to finishing their socially useful labour a little early. Even Nadya, who was usually the most spirited in the group, had other tasks to worry about. The two younger boys working on the same row jumped up and ran off to join the other children, leaving her to take the basket back to the shed. She collected the bag containing her books and the bread she'd bought before school that morning, nodded politely to Maria Pavlovna, and headed towards the gate.

The other older girls in the work group -- Sonya and her friends -- had gathered near the gate, and as Nadya came near them she realised they were talking about her. They weren't being too obvious, but she could see them looking at her sideways and then looking back at each other and whispering. They did the same thing to whichever boy they were interested in this week, except when it was a boy there was more giggling. Nadya pretended she hadn't noticed, but then Sonya called her name.

Nadya wouldn't have stopped for any of the others, but Sonya lived in the same building as her and had been her best friend in elementary school and the first year of the senior section. Nowadays she preferred spending time with the shallow, noisy girls who made Nadya uncomfortable. Nadya was going to make more serious friends if she was admitted to the Komsomol next year, but she still missed Sonya.

Sonya detached herself from the group and came over, to Nadya's disappointment accompanied by Lena Filatova , who could never stay out of anything.

"Have you heard about the fight?" Sonya asked her.

"No. What fight?"

Lena jumped in eagerly to explain.

"Volodya Ivankov said that Seryozha Zakharchenko stole his cigarette lighter. But Seryozha says he didn't and his brother gave it to him. So now they're going to have a fight, at 5 this afternoon at the old candle factory. You know, the one that was shelled?"

Sonya sniggered. "They think they're Pushkin and d'Anthes."

"They probably haven't even heard of Pushkin," said Lena.

"So," said Sonya, "we're all going to watch. Want to come?"

Nadya looked from one girl to the other. "Why would you want to watch those two morons fight over a cigarette lighter?"

"Because," said Lena in a tone which implied it should be obvious even to Nadya, "Polya's in love with Volodya. And it's not like there's anything new at the cinema."

This confirmed Nadya's suspicion that Polya had no common sense. On the other hand, it was weeks since she'd had time for anything but schoolwork and looking after her mother, and it was even longer since Sonya had invited her to anything. She almost wished she could go.

"I can't. My mother's sick."

"Still?" said Lena disbelievingly.

"Lena!" said Sonya.

Nadya nodded and said "Still." Saying it made her feel like she was drowning.

"She'll be waiting for me," she added. "And Pioneers shouldn't be fighting each other anyway!"

She pulled her bag back onto her shoulder, and when the others didn't respond, she left.

\---

There was no meat left at the butcher's -- it had all gone that morning. This wasn't unusual, but Nadya looked so disappointed when she saw the written notice in the window that an old lady took pity on her and told her that the grocer had fresh mushrooms. The queue for them was not too long, since most workers were still in their factories or offices, but it started to rain when she was standing in it and had barely stopped when she got out of the shop. She glanced up at the sky suspiciously from time to time as she walked back to the apartment, and took extra care not to step on the part of her boot where the sole was almost worn through.

It was a relief to get home and change from her damp coat into her mother's old cardigan. She opened the door to their room gently, and peered around it. Her mother was lying in the bed they shared, but she stirred as Nadya slipped inside and put down her bag and coat. Her breathing was noisy, but not worse than usual. Nadya decided to let her sleep. She could hear some of the other families moving about and talking, but no one else was in the kitchen yet.

She put the cabbage soup on the stove to heat up and cut up the mushrooms and carrots to add to it. Then she got out her biology homework and started adding to it while the soup heated up. She could never decide if it was easier to work while cooking, or later in the evening when there were no distractions but she was so tired she could hardly concentrate. During lunch at school was the best time, but it wasn't long enough to get everything done. 

Once the soup was ready, she poured it into the large bowl and carried it carefully into the corridor. She turned to close the kitchen door behind her, and at the same time heard children shouting further down the corridor. She was turning back when suddenly a three-year-old crashed into her legs and sent the top inch or so of steaming soup slopping onto the floor. 

The child began to howl and Nadya hastily put the bowl down and tried to check if he was really hurt or just making a fuss. In the neighbouring room, the baby had started crying in response, and Galina Victorovna, the children's mother and other tenant of the shared apartment, charged out and snatched her son away. Three more children appeared in the doorway behind her, watching the scene with wide eyes. Nadya got up and tried to wipe the soup off her school apron. The other one was clean, but she'd have to iron it and put this one in to soak before the stain set in...

"What's this mess?" said Galina Victorovna, indicating the soup on the floor. Before Nadya could answer, she turned behind her and shouted "Katya! The baby!"

The eldest child vanished into the other room again, but the baby's crying didn't stop. Galina Victorovna glared at Nadya and said "You could've burned him. Can't you be more careful?"

"Can't you control your children? They run around like animals!"

Galina Victorovna slapped her, and Nadya stepped back and stared at her, trembling. She should apologise for answering back to an adult, but though she had her anger back under control she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Clean that up," said Galina Victorovna. "You might have a pretty face, but you'll never get a husband if you keep acting so high-and-mighty."

Galina Victorovna's husband was hardly ever home, and when he was home he was drunk, though this did not stop them producing another screaming baby every time the last one was old enough to sleep through the night. Nadya wished she could point this out, but instead she cleaned up the soup while silently fuming. When her mother was well she wouldn't let anyone treat her like this.

"And don't touch my children again," Galina Victorovna added when Nadya had finished. "I don't want them getting sick."

\--

Nadya closed the bedroom door behind her with relief and carried the remaining soup over to her mother, who sat up and smiled to see her daughter after a long day with only the radio for company. She would have heard every word of the commotion through the wall, but she didn't comment as she would have done when well. With difficulty she managed several spoonfuls of the soup, but then she pushed the bowl away.

"I'm not hungry. You eat."

Nadya hesitated.

"Nadya..."

It was no good arguing, and anyway Nadya was hungry. She obeyed before her mother could say any more, because speaking too much was bad for her cough. Soon she'd finished the soup and yesterday's bread, and her mother croaked: "School?"

Nadya felt herself smile before she even told her news. She had looked forward to this all day.

"Mr Kasyanov said I'm the best pupil he's ever taught. In thirty years."

Her mother looked so pleased that for a moment you could forget she was ill. Nadya had been the best at so many things -- not just English, but all her school subjects, and at gymnastics and chess and recitation -- that when she was well her mother had come simply to expect it. But now she clung to all Nadya's news from school and when Nadya brought home something particularly good she had the feeling that she was striking the only blow she could against the illness.

"He gave me a book as well," she added. She retrieved it from her bag and her mother sat up further in bed to look at the battered green leather binding and the gold-embossed foreign letters. "It's about an orphan boy who asks for more food..."

"Are you sure you have time to read stories?" her mother interrupted. Nadya was suddenly aware of how exhausted she was, and of the pain in her feet.

"He said I should practice at home, because I'm so far ahead of the others that I just spend the class helping them."

Her mother nodded and said "You take after your grandmother."

Nadya had heard the story before, but her mother seemed determined to tell it again. She breathed in deeply, coughed a little and began.

"She grew up in Riga and her father used to beat her. She ran off with a Russian soldier when she was sixteen -- she could barely speak a few words then, but after six months in Smolensk you wouldn't know she wasn't born here."

Her voice had become raspier as she told the story, and at this point she collapsed into a coughing fit and Nadya silently handed her a cloth. Eventually she recovered enough to speak.

"That's probably exaggerated, but she was a very clever woman. She could have been a teacher or a translator, but the poor didn't go to school then. Especially the girls."

Nadya said "Before the Revolution." 

"Even when I was a child, the schools weren't so good yet. You are so lucky, Nadezhda."

"I know. You should rest your voice."

Her mother tried to go on. "When you're older it will be your duty to repay..."

She broke off because the coughing had started again. This time she was coughing blood onto the cloth, but she managed a few more words. "If I'm not here..."

"It's all right. It'll be alright. I know."

At last the coughing stopped and her mother sat back, wheezing. Nadya took the cloth away to rinse out.

"Will you be alright while I do my homework?"

Her mother nodded and Nadya fetched her a clean cloth and settled down with her books on the other side of the room. She had been absorbed in the abstractions of mathematics for about twenty minutes when she heard a knocking at the front door and Sonya's voice asking Galina Victorovna if she was home. She jumped up and, after glancing over to check her mother didn't mind being left, she went outside to meet her.

 

\---

Sonya pulled her out into the corridor, so that Galina Victorovna wouldn't be able to hear if they whispered.

"Why didn't you tell someone about the fight?" she hissed.

Nadya was confused. "Tell who?"

"A teacher or the police... someone who could put a stop to it."

"What?"

Sonya looked rather sheepish. "That's why we told you. Polya kept insisting Volodya was going to get killed, but we couldn't tell anyone because the boys would never speak to us again. So we told you, because you've always been... well..."

"Why should I care if two idiots beat each other up? I had to do the shopping and the cooking and look after my mother..."

"You told on Mitya when he said ... that thing about Lenin."

"That's different!"

For a moment the two girls glared at each other in disbelief. Then Nadya said "Was the fight bad?"

"It was awful. Seryozha smacked Volodya's head on the pavement, and I don't think he was really hurt, but there was blood everywhere. Volodya wouldn't go home because it was all down the back of his uniform."

"You can get it out with cold water if it's fresh."

"Polya and Lena are really mad at you. I thought I'd better warn you. You should keep away from them tomorrow."

Nadya didn't bother asking how she could do that when they were in all the same classes. Instead she said, before she could think better of it, "My mother keeps talking about what I should do if she dies."

Sonya looked stricken. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." She looked down at the floor and said "I actually have to go now. I haven't done my homework yet."

"Oh. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"I can't really talk to you at school for a bit. Because of the others. But I'm sorry about your mother. I hope she gets better soon."

Sonya practically ran along the corridor and down the stairs. Nadya watched her go and then carried on looking at the empty corridor. She wanted to cry, but her mother would hear and want to know what happened. She would get up in the morning, and go to school, and stand in the queue, and come home, and there would be no chance to cry. So she forced herself to look like nothing was wrong, and then she went back to finish her homework and do the cleaning before she went to bed.

\---

Her mother was sitting up in bed now, her hands wrapped around her glass of tea. Nadya could still hear her creaking breath from the doorway, but in the dim light she looked less tired than she usually did.

"Can I check your throat?" Nadya asked. Her mother nodded, though they'd checked only yesterday.

Nadya tied a handkerchief across her face, as her mother always insisted she did to avoid infection, and brought the lamp close to her mother's mouth. In her throat the alien white lump was still there, sucking away at her breathing and her life. The doctor had promised that if she survived the first two weeks it would soon turn green and fall away, but it was still hanging on and the doctor was too busy to come back. Nadya took the lamp away.

"No change," she said.

"Have patience," her mother said, as she often did when in a better mood, and sighed. The sigh seemed to catch, and turn into a long rattling breath; she took out the handkerchief again and pressed the fingers of her other hand against her throat, but the frantic coughing didn't start again.

Nadya looked at her for a moment, then took the lamp back to the table where her homework was waiting. She could hear her mother's painful breathing from across, and she would hear it all night as she lay next to her in bed, sleeping top and tail to reduce the chance she'd get ill too. Sometimes she even thought she could hear it at school, in the back of her mind as she tried to concentrate. Maybe it would never really go away.


End file.
